Perfect Collision (13 page)

CHAPTER FIVE:

Ready To Get Ready?

-o0o-

I WAS OUTSIDE MAC'S
door. It had been two days since he came to help me, and I was once again mortally embarrassed, but I had to do this. I had to thank him and... apologize for not being nicer to him. He'd helped me, and I'd been pretty horrible.

I hadn't told anyone about my trip to the house. Not even Trixie. It was so stupid, and I didn't want anyone to know how stupid I'd been. So no one knew—except Mac. I preferred to keep it that way. I didn't think he'd tell anyone, but I wanted to make sure, and also I wanted to say thank you. I owed him that.

After knocking, I looked down at the gift I had in my hand, and it hit me how damn corny it was—I had no fucking idea
what
I'd been thinking. While I considered just throwing it down the stairs and picking it up on my way back out, the door opened, and I stared between the gift in my hand and Mac standing in the doorway.

“Hi...” I started.

“Hi?”

“I just came to say I'm sorry, really sorry, and you were great, and I won't do that again. So... thank you... for helping me.” I swallowed. “So, yeah. That was it. I think.”

With a nod I turned and started to leave, feeling sillier and more stupid than I'd been in my entire life. That's when Mac finally spoke.

“So the gift isn't for me? Are you on a general 'I'm sorry' walkabout?”

When I turned around, he smiled and pushed the door open wider.

“Come on in.”

I hesitantly walked past him into his apartment. It was a studio, but surprisingly big and quite nice. I'd been to some of the apartments belonging to the other singles in the club. Those had been rat holes, and Dad generally didn't want me to stay for long without a tetanus shot.

Mac's place wasn't, like, fancy, but he seemed to at least have made an effort. It was kinds of cozy. Very empty walls, though, and before I managed to stop myself, I opened my mouth.

“It's nice, could do a wall painting over there, that would be cool,” I said, pointing at the far wall, and then I bit down on my lower lip to shut up.

“I'm pretty shit at painting,” he answered, but he smiled, and it wasn't a condescending smile.

“Yeah. Anyway—here.” I tried to hand him the gift, but he wouldn't take it. “So, thank you, and I'm sorry I was an ass. It was really cool of you to help me, and I know you haven't told Dad, since I'm here and not locked up at home.”

He still wouldn't take the gift, and finally I just put it down on kitchen island.

“Vi, I think we need to talk.”

“Can we not?” With a sigh I shoved my hands into my back pockets and finally looked at him. I'd been avoiding it, since looking at him always made my head spin and heart pound. “It's just that every time we've done that lately, I cry, and I get a headache when I cry. If you just let me leave and... we'll, like, never talk again. I promise I won't call you when I'm in trouble or anything like that.”

“Fuck that!” he said with big eyes and took a step towards me. “You call me when you're in trouble! You hear me?!”

“Fine. It probably won't happen again. It was the first time I was there, and I won't go there again, so I probably won't call you anymore.”

“Vi, it's not that I don't want you. It's that you're not ready for this, and you're—”

“If you say 'too young,' I'll scream! I'm not a kid—I'm eighteen!”

I was so tired of hearing from him—from everyone—how I was too young! I knew how old I was, but I still knew how I felt about things. It pissed me off that my age somehow made my feelings invalid or less real to other people.

“Okay, okay,” he said, holding his hands in front of him to calm me down. “But it was never about you being underage. Even if you're eighteen, you're still six years younger than me, and I can't. You're not ready.”

To my own surprise, I felt myself getting really pissed. It didn't happen often, but I was about to snap.

“How do you know what I'm ready for?
I
don't even know what I'm ready for! But I know how I
feel
!”

“Fuck's sake, girl. You flinched before we even got the point where I consider stuff about to get started.”

“So?!” I was screaming! I hardly ever did that, but it felt good,
really
good. A helluva lot better than crying. “The entire thing was, like, a complete surprise. You just kissed me, and I got a bit surprised when you shoved your dick against me. I mean, you had a hard-on from kissing me, and you called me beautiful, and I'd never... done that.”

Towards the end I wasn't screaming anymore. More whispering, which I assumed took the edge off what I was saying.

“Never done what?”

I probably shouldn’t have admitted that, and I hoped I could get him to think about something else.

“It doesn't matter. Point is, you don't know what I'm ready for.” I was working myself up to the screaming again. Unfortunately, he figured it out.

“Jesus fucking christ, you'd never even kissed anyone before?”

“No, I hadn't. So fucking sorry I'm not some wanton whore so you'd bother with me. And if all guys are like you, no one will ever bother, since apparently you all know better than me what I'm ready for.”

“You're not ready for it, I know you're not. I've had sex for almost a decade, and I
know
you're not ready for a lot of things!”

“Stop fucking saying that!”

I did the math. Almost a decade?! That's ten years! He'd been having sex since he was fourteen or fifteen! That was so fucking unfair. He kept telling me I wasn't ready, and by the time he was my age he'd been at it for years! I wasn't ready, and he wasn't going to do anything about it, then when the fuck would I be able to get ready? I wasn't even jailbait anymore and... he what? Wanted me to go fuck someone less experienced to get ready? That didn't make any sense at all. I didn't even know where to start with my protests and just kept yelling,

“Stop telling me what I'm ready for or not!”

“Okay. You wanna know what I wanna do with you?” he screamed, and I responded in kind.

“Yes!”

“I wanna pull down those shorts, plant your ass on that counter and fuck you blue. Then I'll take off the rest and continue to the bed over there. I wanna lick your pussy till you scream, and I would also love to shove my dick into that perfect mouth of yours. And girl, that's just a fraction of the things I've fantasized about doing with you. So don't think for a fucking second that I don't want you!”

His rant made me realize a few things. The first was that he was really good at screaming, and his voice sounded great when he did. The second, that he'd been fantasizing about me, too! The third, that my own fantasies about touching his dick and listening to him moan were extremely fucking childish. Finally the fourth, I was crying again.

-o0o-

Of all the stupid fucking things he could've said to her, that had to been at the top of the list. And he'd made her cry again. Awesome.

Her tear-filled eyes boldly met his, though. He liked that, and preferred it to her avoiding his eyes. She'd screamed at him, too, which had been a lot better than her usual mumbling.

He'd been surprised when he opened the door and saw her. It took a lot of guts to come by after what went down that night, and she'd brought him a gift, which was really sweet of her.

He liked having her in his apartment, and had smiled when she'd said the thing about a wall painting. Her entire visit, from the fact that she'd come at all, to the situation they were in at that moment, had been surprising.

Then she
really
knocked the wind out of him, like she so often did. She took a deep breath, still eyeing him.

“No. I'm not ready for that yet, but one day I will be, and I would've liked to get ready with you.”

He gasped. Jesus Mary motherfucker! He couldn't believe she'd just said that.

The thought of her being ready and with someone else—he didn't even want to think about it. Especially not after seeing her with that fuckface mohawk.

She was right, though. Just because she wasn't ready didn't mean he couldn't get her there if he was careful and patient. Considering his only relief at the moment was jerking off, it wouldn't be all that different.

There were obviously some major problems involved. Like the possibility her dad might kill him if he found out, or his own dad killing him. There were quite a few other members that might kill him, too.

But she was eighteen and... yeah, her age wasn't the issue. It was never just about her being jailbait. Bear didn't give a fuck about the law and what it said. This was about Vi being his girl, and Bear didn't want his virgin, innocent girl with a six-years-older biker.

What really dawned on him was that no matter what pro or con arguments he might have for trying something with her, he didn't want her with anyone else. No fucking way! But he couldn't keep her hanging. He either did this now, or he let her go telling her it would never happen.

They were still staring at each other, and then he decided. He walked up to her and wiped her cheeks with his thumbs. He'd made her cry again. He stroke the tip of his thumb along her lower lip. He couldn't believe how full her lips were. Or what he was about to do.

“Sure you're ready for that?”

Her full lips turned into a shy smile. “Ready to get ready?”

“Yeah,” he laughed. “Ready to get ready.”

He was trying to figure out how the hell he could do this without completely fucking her up in the process. He lifted her up to sit on the kitchen island. That way she was almost eye to eye with him.

This could be a snake pit of problems, and he needed to make sure he didn't push her in any way. He also needed to make sure this was the real thing, not just her... crushing on him. Once he knew that, he'd talk to Bear. There was no fucking way he'd sneak around with this for long, but he wanted them to figure a few things out before he took that step. She was still looking at him, and he held her cheeks.

“You're sure?” he asked her, and she nodded. “Then listen carefully. I'm not gonna ask permission for every little thing I do. If I do
anything
that makes you feel uncomfortable, bad, or just
anything
but good—you say 'Bear.' No matter what the situation is or where we are, you say that, and we stop and figure it out.”

Hearing her dad's name should get him out of any horny fucking daze he was sure to end up in.

“You want me to say Dad's name?” she asked with a confused expression and dried off her last remaining tears.

“Yeah. That'll stop me, and you can tell me what I did wrong, or we can try to figure it out together.” He gave her lips a light kiss. “And if say 'break' you stop moving.” He was probably gonna need that, or he might come in his pants or just lose it.

She nodded and then put her arms around his neck. She looked nervous. Really nervous.

“One more thing,” he said and gently moved his hands to stroke her hips with his thumbs. “Would you paint that wall for me?”

She looked stunned at first, and then she gave him the huge smile he'd known she would.

“You'd let me do that?”

“You're the only artist I know, Katze.”

Her arms around his neck pulled him closer, and he kissed her. Fuck! He'd missed her mouth, her sweet taste, and tongue. He slowly ran his hands up her sides underneath her t-shirt, and she had the softest skin he'd ever felt.

The best way of doing this, getting her ready, was probably to take it slower than she'd like to begin with, to get her used to it. Then he'd let her set the pace once she was comfortable with him.

His hands went over her ribs till they met the lower edge of her bra, and he stopped there. He held his hands still while he kept kissing her, tasting her, and feeling her tongue circling his. He was already mind-blowingly horny. She scooted closer and wrapped her legs around his hips. He couldn't fucking believe her.

He slowly stroked the underside of her breasts. With a moan she pulled him closer, which meant he pressed his already very hard dick against her. She didn't flinch this time, just made another one of those amazing moans.

This time, he decided, they were going to keep their clothes on. There would be no taking clothes off, just some making out before he took her home, and then jerked off—most likely twice. That was the plan until his thumbs felt her nipples underneath the bra, and they both stopped moving at the same time.

“Fuck,” he said and leaned back. It didn't seem likely, but he was pretty sure he'd felt it. “Is that a piercing?”

“Yeah,” she said in an exhale with her eyes still closed. “Please don't stop. I know I froze, but please don't stop.”

He started circling her nipples, and she moaned. When he carefully licked her lips, she didn't even seem to notice it. He kissed and nibbled his way down her jaws to her chin, licked her dimple, and carefully pushed until she tilted her head back.

“When did you do the piercing?” he asked, but she didn't answer. “Baby, when did you do it?”

“A while ago.”

When he nipped the soft skin just underneath her ear, she groaned again.

“Oh, fuck! Mac!”

She grabbed him and pulled him up to her face and shoved her tongue inside his mouth, while she squeezed him between her thighs. His hands were back on her breasts, and she kept moaning, sighing, and holding him so hard. It was insane, the shy girl was completely gone, and he was getting nervous about how fast this was already going.

“Please don't stop,” she kept mumbling, over and over again.

He was about to explode, and when he pinched her nipples, she almost screamed into his mouth.

“Ohmygod!” She hugged him and thrust her tongue into his mouth again.

Somehow he managed to tear his mouth from hers, and with a groan he panted, “Break!”